


you've got it in the palm of your hands

by cryoreal



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff and Smut, Just Add Kittens, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-06
Updated: 2017-09-06
Packaged: 2018-12-24 12:15:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12012522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cryoreal/pseuds/cryoreal
Summary: Sansa is an ambitious lawyer who works long hours and the one time her cat gets out, of course she gets into trouble with another cat down the hall.





	you've got it in the palm of your hands

**Author's Note:**

> A bit of shameless smut for fun. Happy reading!

It was a Wednesday, and a ridiculously long Wednesday at that. 

The legal firm Sansa worked at was handling a “high-end” client, which essentially meant that she was working around the clock, and she was tired. It was 8 PM on hump day, and she hadn’t been humped in months. 

When she finally got off the elevator and made her way down the hallway to her apartment, she noticed a figure slumped against her door. _Jesus fucking Christ, again?_

“Hey, dude. You can’t sleep here. That’s my apartment,” Sansa called out as she got closer, and the man lifted his head up off his arms. 

Well, he certainly wasn’t homeless, that was for sure. His hair was obviously professionally styled by the way the curls were smooth and sleek, and he could have modeled in his spare time with his cut jaw, high cheekbones, and full lips. 

“Are you the girl that lives here? Do you have a cat?” he asked, and Sansa stopped in her tracks.

“Is Peaches okay?” She had a lovable long-haired orange cat who was only a few years old, but she had been working so much she only saw the poor thing to feed it and fall asleep on her bed together.

“I’m pretty sure your cat is fine. He’s a boy, by the way, so I don’t know if you should call him Peaches.”

“Peaches is definitely a girl.” Sansa bristled. “I got her from a very reputable shelter, and they insisted that she was female.”

“Well, your female cat got my female cat pregnant a few months ago while you were out who knows where,” the man shot back.

Sansa vaguely remembered a time a few months ago when the skeevy apartment manager, Mr. Baelish, had approached her to tell her that he let her cat back into her apartment with his master key. At the time, she had been more worried about the fact that the man let himself into her space, but now...

“You can’t just interrogate me in front of my door. I’m going inside and I’ll _show_ you that she’s a girl.”

Ten minutes later, Sansa was staring at her cat in shock. “Peaches… is a boy?” 

“I told you that fifteen minutes ago.” 

“Fine, you proved me wrong. I didn’t catch your name.” Her gaze lingered on his flannel shirt, rolled up to his sleeves to expose sinewy forearms. She definitely needed his name.

“Sorry. I’m Jon.” 

“Sansa. Wait. Did you say your cat was _pregnant?"_

“Oh, right. Come over to my apartment real quick. I have something that belongs to you.”

Eyebrows raised, Sansa followed him down the hallway, making sure to close her door firmly. Didn’t need Peaches getting out again. 

In his living room there was a massive cardboard box, lined with at least four blankets, and in the middle…

“Oh, they’re so sweet,” Sansa cooed, dropping to her knees to pick up a bundle of fluff.

“I don’t think we need a paternity test,” Jon teased, dropping to his knees beside her and picking up one of the other kittens. It was like a scene out of one of her more domestic fantasies. He was entirely too attractive to be cuddling a cat like that. 

“I can take a few of them off your hands,” Sansa offered. “I’m working really long shifts right now, but they’ll be fed and have plenty of toys.”

“And then be ignored all day long? No way. They’re staying here.”

“Hey, I have father’s rights!” Sansa cried, cradling the kitten to her cheek. “Look how much this one loves me already.”

“Maybe you’ll have to come back and visit one day.” Jon’s smile was cool, but there was something warmer in his eyes.

“I don’t need to leave just yet.” Sansa carefully nestled the kitten back inside the box, mindful of its mother’s wary eyes. 

“Maybe you shouldn’t,” he murmured, and Sansa followed his gaze down to where her blouse had tugged low over her chest.

Eyes locked on his, she tugged her jacket off her shoulders and tossed it over a chair, wearing just her waist-hugging blouse and pencil skirt. 

“Your turn.” She said it playfully, hoping she hadn’t mistaken the look in his eyes. It’d been so long, she didn’t know if she was sending him fuck-me vibes or be-my-friend vibes. 

When he slowly unbuttoned his flannel and tossed it over her jacket, she knew she read him right. 

The rest of their clothes flew off in a flurry until they were standing facing each other, chests heaving, in only their underwear, like a silent standoff. 

Sansa took one slow step forward, then another, until they were face to face, an inch from kissing. She scraped her fingernails down his chest, and he shuddered, the muscles in his chest rippling. 

“Can I?” he murmured, tipping her head back with one hand, and she sighed and nodded, letting him capture her lips with his.

It was slow to start, languid and even, until his tongue teased at her and she opened her mouth to him, letting the feeling roll over her. She moaned fully, gripping his back with fervor, and her hands itched to explore him further, more.

“Bedroom?” she gasped when his tongue traced a path down her neck, and he grunted, pushing her with him as he walked her backwards down a hallway, only stopping when the backs of her legs hit the bed. 

Sansa practically flopped backwards and he stood over her, raking his eyes down her body, almost bare but not quite. 

His eyes found hers again, questioning, and she nodded again and lifted her hips until he could work her panties down her legs, leaving her wet and bare before him. 

He dropped to his knees instantly, and his lips ghosted to her knee, up her thigh, to her sex and she groaned loudly, almost embarrassingly so as he chuckled quietly, mouthing at her. 

“Jon, _please_.”

When he finally swiped his tongue against her clit, she thought she had gone to heaven for a moment. It took him only a few moments, his mouth undoing what months of seclusion had wound in her, and she was writhing and panting on the bed, begging him to stop.

When he popped back into her line of sight, she sighed eagerly. “Condom?” 

“Already on it.” He grinned at her and nudged at her entrance, her legs spread obscenely wide, and she nodded once more before he rocked his hips forward, face twisted in a way that would have been strange on anyone but him.

Sansa smoothed his curls back from his face as they moved together, taking longer than she normally would before he was seated fully within her, gasping in unison when their hips finally met with her legs wrapped around his waist. 

“Okay?” he whispered, somehow knowing, and she murmured “Okay,” before he started to move, thrusting in and out slowly but surely. 

It took barely any time before his thrusts sped up and he was slapping into her erratically, and she groaned into his neck with the friction and the pure need of it all. Sansa finally gripped his neck, pulling his face away from her chest. “Can I roll over?”

“Please do,” he groaned, and he pulled out of her quickly, helping to readjust her on the bed before grabbing her hips and sliding himself to the hilt in one smooth long moment. 

She arched her back and heard him moan again, louder this time, and a wicked grin slid across her face. His hands held her tighter, squeezing her hipbones so hard she was afraid they might bruise in the morning, but she reveled in the sweet pain until his hips stilled, snapped against her one, twice, three times, and then stuttered to a stop. 

She could hear him practically panting behind her, and a sly grin worked its way back across her face. 

Ten minutes later, they were curled up in bed together. 

“How did I never know a model lived down the hall from me?” Sansa mused, rubbing her thumb over his cheekbone playfully. 

“I’ve seen you in the elevator at least five times,” he countered, and she blushed shamefully. 

“I promise I’ll get my cat fixed.”

“You damn well better.”


End file.
